


Scissor-Me-Timbers

by crwoe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:19:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5638777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crwoe/pseuds/crwoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Person A receives a haircut that they hate. They spend the day getting compliments, but they still hate it. It isn't until Person B tells them how beautiful they look that they decide they like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scissor-Me-Timbers

If there is one thing in the world that is true it is this; Steve Rogers loves his mother Sarah with all of his heart. If there is another thing in the world that is true it is this; Sarah Rogers gives godawful haircuts.

The result of these two true statements is Steve wincing into a small handheld mirror when his mother turns her back, a grimace on his face as he runs his slender fingers through hair that is way, way too short. He hates it, but he loves his mother, and so when she turns back to face him and asks if he likes it he instantly transforms his face into an enormous grin and vigorously nods his head. “Oh, good! You look so handsome with your hair short like this,” his mother coos, her hands gently brushing loose hairs off of his shoulders. The grin feels tight on his face – like at any moment it’ll crack and his mother will be able to see how truly horrified he is by his own appearance – but before that happens she shoos him out of the kitchen so that she can sweep up.

Steve launches himself out of the room and is putting on his shoes and coat before his mother even has a chance to grab the broom. “I’m going out! I won’t be out late!” he calls over his shoulder at he steps out the front door, needing to get away from his mother because there is no way he’d be able to hold up this charade all day. He wasn’t a terrible liar, but he hated lying to his mother. Still, lying was better than the alternative – the alternative being breaking her heart since despite how bad his mother was at giving haircuts she genuinely seemed to enjoy doing it.

Head cast down, Steve hurried as quickly as he could out of his Brooklyn apartment complex – hoping speed would mean that he would run into less people, and so less people would see this absolutely ridiculously haircut. Luck, as it so often is, was not on his side because as soon as he reached the bottom floor – his fingertips brushing against the door to the outside – a voice called his name. For a moment he considered bolting, but the voice was familiar and if it was who he thought it was there was no way he could not acknowledge her. Sure enough, when Steve turned he found Mrs. Lishman – an elderly widow who lived directly above him – motioning towards him as best she could with an armful of bags.

Sighing heavily, Steve turned away from the doors and approached Mrs. Lishman – taking all four bags out of her hands without even being asked. “Oh Steven, what would I do without you! Such a sweet boy,” she babbled away various compliments that Steve only half-listened to as he struggled to carry her bags back up the stairs to her apartment. To be honest Steve probably shouldn’t be exerting himself so much – his various illnesses and ailments meant that carrying heavy bags up multiple flights of stairs was not a good idea – but at the same time Steve Rogers was not the type of person to let an elderly women struggle.

When they reached Mrs. Lishman’s door Steve placed the bags down on the ground and stayed doubled over for a moment as he tried to catch his breath. The old woman was still babbling – God bless her – but it wasn’t until Steve felt a soft touch on the crown of his head that he realized she had begun to talk about his haircut. “… such an improvement! You look much more mature,” Steve straightened, his blue eyes downcast and his cheeks – already flushed pink from exerting himself – flushed deeper.

Muttering his thanks he excused himself as politely as he could and then took off down the hallway again – moving as fast as he could without triggering an asthma attack. This time he made it out of the building without being stopped, and as he hit the street his feet carried him in a familiar direction down a route that would probably be etched into his memory until the day he died.

He hadn’t really been planning on going to the Barnes' household – all he had known was that he needed to get away from his mother until the initial shock of his haircut wore off. Still, it wasn’t like he had much else of anywhere to go. It was too cold to just mill about on the streets – especially given his poor health – and he knew he was always welcome within the Barnes’ house.

Still, his steps began to falter as soon as the familiar home appeared at the end of the street. Steve was brave and courageous when it came to a lot of things, and so it seemed so silly to be so scared of letting Bucky see his bad haircut – and yet here he was, moving at the pace of a snail all because he was terrified of the idea of Bucky laughing at him.

Bucky laughed at him often, but it was always in good fun. They were best friends, and so teasing and making fun of each other was something that happened daily, and yet Steve couldn’t stand the idea of Bucky not liking how he looked. It was a strange thought, as Steve had never put much stock into his appearance before, but for a while now he had noticed himself becoming more self-conscious around Bucky.

It was stupid, and weird, and he didn’t like it – and he especially didn’t like the butterflies floating in his stomach and the hot feeling of the blush on his cheeks as he walked up to the Barnes’ front door. He paused for a moment – biting into his bottom lip and frantically patting at his hair with both hands in an attempt to miraculously make himself look decent – but after a few seconds of his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest he forced himself to breathe deeply and knock on the door.

Only a few short seconds passed before the door was flung open and Steve found himself standing eye to eye with Rebecca Barnes – which was slightly embarrassing because Rebecca was three years younger and yet she was basically the same height as Steve. Becca’s eyes immediately focused on Steve’s hair – a grin overtaking her face and her mouth opening – but before she could utter a word Winnifred Barnes was grabbing her by the shoulder and scolding her for having opened the door.

Her lecture offered Steve a few precious seconds to compose himself, and just as he was debating whether or not he should just try to sneak past, Winnifred turned to face him with a smile on her face. “Steve, I see you finally got a haircut. It looks lovely,” she spoke, her hands reaching out to pull him into a warm embrace.

Steve was thankful for the hug – it allowed him to hide his scowl in Winnifred’s shoulder – and as he pulled away he plastered his fake grin back onto his face. “Thanks, Ma just did it today. Is Bucky home?”

“He’s in his room, go on in,” she ushered him into the house, closing and locking the door behind him.

“I like your hair too, Steve!” Becca complimented, and at first Steve was inclined to think she was lying but there was a sincere expression on her face. “Thanks,” he mumbled, brushing past her and headed in the direction of Bucky’s room.

His hand gripped the doorknob, and once again he felt his heart beat begin to race. He looked stupid – he had accepted that fact already – and yet he was so completely worried about what Bucky would think. Mostly because he knew Bucky would tease him, and while Steve was generally fine with Bucky’s teasing he really, really wanted Bucky to not tease him about his looks.

As he stood there, a grumpy expression on his face as he contemplated why he was such a strange person, the door flew open and he was greeted by Bucky’s grinning face. Almost immediately Steve felt his heart beat even faster – which honestly was probably not good at all for his health – and a rush of warmth filled his cheeks with color.

Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Steve cut him off. “I know, it looks horrible, but I can’t do nothing about it so…” he finished meekly, looking up at Bucky from between his lashes.

A confused expression flicker across Bucky’s face – causing an equally as confused look to cross Steve’s face – which only caused Bucky to burst into laughter when he saw it. Steve bristled, instantly thinking that Bucky was about to rip into him about his stupid haircut – he could already feel himself growing defensive – but then Bucky’s fingers were gently brushing through Steve’s hair and his mind went blank. He stared at Bucky, eyes wide, but stayed silent until Bucky gave a playful tug on a lock of his hair which caused him to yelp. “Looks good to me, I like it,” he shrugged, turning around to walk into his room and motioning for Steve to follow.

For a moment Steve was awe struck – his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as he tried to process what Bucky had just said – but thankfully it took his muddled mind just a few seconds to piece everything together. A grin broke out across Steve’s face, and he reached a hand up to tentatively feel at his own hair. If Bucky liked it then it couldn’t really be that bad, could it?

“Gonna stand there and grin like a goof, or are ya coming in?” Bucky questioned, and Steve stepped into the room with a smile on his face and a feeling of lightness that he hadn’t felt since he’d first looked in the mirror after his haircut.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually my first fic! I decided to do something short and silly to get into it, and so I hope you like it! I really like writing prompts, so feel free to suggest things to me at crwoe.tumblr.com.


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